


190 - Teenage Van, Photography, & Wingman Bernie

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Teenage Van
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “one where you’re taking a photography class in high school and you run into teenage van who insists on being the ‘model’ for your assignment, you go to the beach for the shoot and he ends up pulling you in the water ? (the camera is safe tho) and then you go back to his house to dry off and cute stuffs happens”





	190 - Teenage Van, Photography, & Wingman Bernie

"Didn't you drop out? Why are you even here?" you asked. Van laughed and nodded. "Then I'm pretty sure it's like, illegal for you to be on school grounds,"

"You gone all goody two shoes since I ain't been here to keep ya on your toes?"

You'd never really been proper friends with Van, so you weren't sure why he was calling you over to behind the bike shed. There were a few classes you shared. Even then, Music was the only one you talked a lot in. In English you'd urge him to actually try the assignments because he could so clearly write. He'd always claim to have better things to use his skills for though, lyrics and melodies. And, he was right. 

Since he'd dropped out, you had listened better in class. It was easier to be a good student without his beautiful distractions. 

"Shut up. What do you want?"

"Need ya camera. And you. We wanna take some photos and stuff for the band. You'll help, right?"

You sighed. "Can't. I have too much homework. And I have to do this assignment for Art and Miss is letting be do photos instead of draw and I still have to find something to do it on. I don't have time to take photos of you and your weirdo friends,"

"Oi. They ain't weirdos. Please? I'm begging,"

"Can't you just do them yourself?" you asked, quickly looking around in case there was a teacher on yard duty. They wore fluro vests so they could be spotted in an emergency situation, but really they just allowed kids to duck away and keep track of their whereabouts.

"No. You'll do proper ones 'cause you're proper good at it," he said. You looked at him and pulled your jacket around tighter. "And how about if I help with the assignment. I'll be your model! I'll do whatever ya say, promise. Please? Pleeeeeeeeease, Y/N."

As soon as he mentioned being a model, the idea of what you wanted to photograph popped into your head. Annoying, really. You agreed and he hugged you tightly before jumping the school fence and walking off down the street, lighting a cigarette on his way.

…

The photoshoot with Catfish was easy. You directed them to rearrange and clean up the space they practised in, then hung fairy lights around the room. Van and his band played, and the photographs were alive with their energy. When you gave Van a CD with the final edits, he called your house phone.

"Y/N! There's a boy on the phone for you! Why's there a boy on the phone?!" your mum yelled. You ran to the kitchen and took the phone from her.

"Nothing. It's for school,"

"Don't lie to me, little miss. Says his name is Van. That's Mary's boy, right? He dropped out,"

"So? He's still helping with a school thing. I'll explain later, God," you replied, going to speak to Van. Your mother stood with her eyebrows raised and hands on her hips. "Sorry," you mumbled.

"Yes, you are," she said as she walked from the room.

"Hi,"

"Hey, Y/N. Just looked at the photos. They're so good! You made us look like an actual band,"

"You… are an actual band?"

"I mean, yeah, but… you know. Thanks heaps. Seriously. So when do you wanna do this assignment thing?"

You met Van down on the beach after school on a Friday. It wasn't raining, but the weather was still miserable. Half expecting Van not to show, he was waiting on a bench smoking a cigarette when you arrived. He stood and pulled you into a hug straight away.

On the rocks by the water, you told him just to act natural. Instantly, he stopped acting naturally.

"What are you doing?!" you asked between giggles.

"What aren't I doing?" he replied, as he moved from one weird pose to the next.

"Van! Just… stand there and smoke. And don't get so close to the edge like that. You're gonna fall."

He narrowed his eyes at you, then grinned and blew smoke into the air. Following him from rock to rock, the waves began to crash louder and the sky was turning dark. You jumped back onto the sand to change the roll of film. You'd used digital for Catfish's shoot, but for the assignment you wanted the visual equivalent of the warm crackling of vinyl. There was something about Van, even with his chubby teen cheeks and fluffy hair, that would translate to film.

"Y/N! You reckon I can jump this?"

You turned around and looked at the space between Van's rock and the next.

"Don't! No,"

"Yeah. I'll be right. Watching? Ready?"

"No! I'm not watching!" you turned away in an attempt to make him stop.

"Y/N! Y/N! I'm gonna fuckin' do it anyway. Might as well document my glory."

The boy had a point. He was already pulled back, ready for the run up. You caught the jump and the moment he slipped and fell straight into the ocean with a fantastic yelp. "Van!" You dropped your camera on your bag and scrambled over the rocks to him. The water was shallow, so he'd not drown. He sat, ego hurt, blushing hard. "Are you okay?" you asked, kneeling on the rock and holding a hand out. He took it and stood. The water was almost up to his chest. "I did tell you so," you laughed. He looked at you.

"Think this is funny?"

"Well…"

In one easy movement, he pulled you down off the rock. Coming up from under the water, you screamed. The water was freezing. Why wasn't he shaking? You pushed him and tried to get out of the water.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Didn't ya just say this is funny?" he asked as he held you by the waist, keeping you in the water.

"Van! You fucking fuck! Let me go! What if I had my camera?!"

"Didn't, but. I saw it over there," he replied with a shrug. You pushed him again and climbed up onto the rock. It was worse out of the water. The cold wind was freezing the water drenching your clothes. Van followed you up. 

Back on the sand you both tried to shake the water free, but it was no use. You started to shiver violently.

"Fuck. I'm actual sorry," he said when he realised you were really suffering. Your lips had gone blue and your hair stuck down. You were too cold to say or do anything. "Come on. Think Dad's home, just around the corner. I'll call him to come get us."

Van took your hand and pulled you along the beach and up onto the road. Stopped at a pay phone he reverse called home and asked his dad for help. Ten minutes later a car pulled up and a man got out. He held a towel out to you first, then one to Van.

"Get in the back, the both of ya. I put towels down so ya don't ruin the seats." You climbed in and let Van cover you with the spare towels. "Hi, love. I'm Bernie. Know how this one got wet. Doin' something stupid, no doubt. He responsible for you too?" Bernie asked, leaning around to look at you both.

"Yeah. Said I was sorry though," Van replied for you.

"My boy… You…" When he couldn't find the words, he sighed instead. "Here, love. Hot chocolate." Bernie had a thermos and he poured into a mug. He handed you one then looked at Van.

"Please?" Van asked. Bernie gave him a mug too, then turned around and pulled out onto the road. He drove slow and you didn't know that was because of the hot liquid in open cups or because he always drove like that.

"Do you hate me?" Van asked you in a whisper that Bernie could probably hear. When you saw his eyes flick from the road to his son in the rear view mirror, it became clear that he had.

"N-no," you stuttered, jaw still chattering.

"I just… didn't think it through,"

"You d-did. Checked for the c-camera," you replied. Van tried to not smirk.

"Okay, so I did but I just thought it would be funnier. I really am sorry."

You nodded and stayed silent for the rest of the ride.

…

In the bathroom of Van's house you peeled your wet clothes off and changed into some of his mum's pyjama pants and one of Van's t-shirts. "Sorry we don't have any proper girl clothes," Van said as he handed them over. You shook a towel through your hair until it wasn't slick and flat, then went back out into the lounge room.

"What should I do with my clothes?"

"I'll put them through the wash and dry," Bernie said, holding his arms out. You thanked him then followed Van into the kitchen. You stood against the bench and watched him make tea, then followed him back into the living room to sit in front of the open fireplace. Bernie returned. "Alright, kids. I'll be out back if you need me. Van, no more torturing her, yeah? If you like her that much, try writin' her a song instead of throwin' her in the sea, mate."

"Dad!" Van hissed, going red again. For a boy that dropped out of school to play in a rock band, he was easily embarrassed and not at all smooth. When Bernie was gone, Van looked at you. "Don't know what he means by that," he quickly said. You nodded and smiled. "Um… Did you want to call your mum or dad to come get you? Or like, you could stay for dinner or something?"

"I should probably let them know where I am," you said. Van watched as you called home. Nobody picked up. "Guess I'll try again later?"

You stayed by the fire wrapped in a blanket while Van kept bringing things to show you. Records and instruments and photos and anything else in the house that could have been of slight interest to you.

"And… yeah… Um. I think I have another one someone-"

"Van. You don't have to entertain me. Just sit. It's okay," you cut him off with a hand on his arm. He sat and breathed out loudly.

"Okay. Yeah. Hi," he said with a smile.

"Hi,"

"You all warmed up?" he asked.

You nodded, but held out your fingers. "Yep, 'cept my fingers are still a little numb,"

"Here, let me," and he shuffled closer and took one of your hands between his palms. He gently rubbed warmth back into them. It was an act that was sweet and free from pretension, like Bernie's hot chocolate. You were quiet as you let Van play with your hands. You watched him and the way his blue eyes reflected the flames.

"Van? Can I take more photos?" you asked in a whisper. He looked up at you and slowly nodded. Van got up before you could, and returned quickly with your camera.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. Whatever was driving his showing off before, it had been washed away in the water. All the warmth and kindness raised into him had shown itself in front of the fire.

"Nothing. Just sit. You can look at me if you want," you replied.

Van quickly looked down, a small smile forming on his lips. He nodded and looked back up. The final product for your assignment would be two photographs. One of Van standing on a rock, the waves licking up around him. His arms were out like he was on the cross, and he was looking up at the sky with unashamed confidence and mischief in his expression. His cigarette hung from between his lips, and the smoke trailing from it was visible. The second photo was of him looking directly into the camera. His hair had curled, and his expression had softened. All that wild teenage boy bravado was gone.

You put your camera away as Van pulled the couch cushions to the floor to create a mattress. You laid down next to Van, both on your backs looking up at the knots in the wood panelling of the ceiling.

"Think you should be the official band photographer, Y/N," he said. You felt his fingers lace between yours under the blankets.

"Yeah?" you whispered. "I could probably do that."


End file.
